The Fickle Diary of Tango Draco
by Costigan
Summary: Draco Malfoy, along with Harry, Hermione, Ron, and others- have finally reached their 7th year at Hogwarts. With Voldemort now defeated, the students have to start trying to figure out who they are and where they want to go from there.
1. Default Chapter

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The Fickle Diary of Tango!Draco

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17 January, 1991

Dear Diary. Journal. Perhaps I will have no title, as I do not want it obvious that this parchment book is a collection of my most precious thoughts and observations. Of course, the gold embossing in the corner that says "Draco Malfoy" may be somewhat of a dead give away. I simply don't want it to be published in the next issue of Teen Witch Weekly as "Draco's Diary". The prying eyes of Pansy Parkinson will no doubt catch sight of it during her daily expedition of my backside. Not that I mind- if I were as unfortunate to be someone other than me, I'd probably spend a fat lot of time staring at my bum too.

Life through Draco Malfoy's eyes during his first year was quite attractive, considering he often spent a majority of his time looking at himself- in mirrors, window reflections, and in Potter's oversized glasses. (How else do you think anyone could keep their hair that slick?) Of course, this didn't mean that he didn't see other people too.

Like Ron Weasley, for example.

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Beastly hair. I often see him walking down the corridor and get the urge to just grab him and force-spread whatever remaining gel I have left in my Sleek Easy travel bottle onto his head. Then again, he probably gets hair-care tips from Potter.

By Draco's third year, however, he'd grown out of the habit, and was spending more and more time complaining, rather than bragging.

_ ****_

14 November, 1993

Spoke to Potter in Potions today. Basically gave him some words of wisdom. I don't' think he took it to heart, though. Pity he didn't. I'd like to see him go out there and try to be all heroic, for the third bloody year in a row.

Speaking of Potter, Mother performed a spell to clean the kitchen drain today, and retrieved a hairball from it's clutches. She felt the need to owl me about it's enormous size, smell, and color. Turns out it had an odor of lilacs, and was blonde. I'd told her time and time again that Father has been washing his hair in that sink, but she wouldn't listen. She said, "That's ridiculous, the pink bathroom in the master suite is perfectly suitable for such a thing". Obviously, Mother's awareness of things Father hates does not extend as far down the list to #1,337. The color pink.

Now, Draco kept these "collections of thought" all the way into seventh year, and was lucky enough to never have had them stolen. Until the day his seventh year started, and Crabbe found it while rummaging in Draco's underwear drawer…

Sitting on the edge of Draco Malfoy's four poster bed, Vincent Crabbe was reading. "Mother man-ip-u-lay-ted me into-"

"Crabbe! What're you doing in my underwear?" Draco shouted, appearing in the doorway of his dormitory and slamming shut the top drawer of his wardrobe. Freezing in place as his eyes trailed across the leather-bound journal that lay in his hands, he tried to stay calm. "Crabbe… what're you doing, reading?"

Vincent Crabbe was obviously startled by the sudden abundance of questions. It seemed his brain could process only so many things at a time. He finally decided to go back to what he'd just read from Draco's leather bound notebook. "Your mum man played you!"

Looking furious, Draco snatched the journal out of his hands. "Don't be stupid. Or at least try. Just for one second."

Crabbe stood, "at least I don't keep a girly book," he said with a goofy smirk on his face.

"You choose now of all times to have the brain capacity to know it's my journal. Wonderful," he muttered, rubbing his temples with his free hand.

"It's a diary," he repeated, more insistent.

"It's a journal!" Draco yelled, storming out towards the door. "And if you tell anyone about my diary Crabbe, I'll make a parachute out of your boxer shorts and stick it to Potter's broomstick." And he slammed the door shut.

Crabbe sat stupidly on the edge of Draco's bed, his face twisted up in confusion. "Wait. I have brain cavities?"

It was the Monday of the start of Hermione's seventh year at Hogwarts, and although it wasn't completely unexpected, she'd been absolutely thrilled when it was announced at this morning's feast that she was the new Head Girl. Head Boy, to many people's surprise, was Neville Longbottom. On the way back to the commons, however, Ron and Harry seemed to care very little.   


"Can you _believe _we've got Double Potions on Monday? What a great way to start the week! And with Slytherins, no less," Ron bellowed as they turned a corner on the second floor.

Hermione, somewhat put off that neither of them congratulated her on her achievement, piped in somewhat icily, "but we always have Potions with the Slytherins, Ron. It's not like it's that big of a surprise."

He glared at her. "Knowing it's coming doesn't make it any less of a bad situation, Hermione."

"Yes well, look on the bright side. At least you haven't got Divination to worry about this year," and she paused, stopping in front of the Portrait of the Fat Lady and saying the password. "Oh yes, that's right, I forgot. Both of you signed up for it. Again," and she turned sharply on her heel and walked into the common room.

Ron was furious, and followed without stopping to exchange glances with Harry. "You've _got _to be joking, Hermione! It's an easy class! Just spoon-feed the old bag some Harry Potter sob stories and she eats it up! Especially when it has to do with his dying! Who in their right mind _wouldn't _take advantage of that?"

"Uh, thanks Ron," Harry said, scratching his head and looking from one friend to the other.

Hermione looked less than pleased. Her eyes flickered when Ron mentioned Harry and death, it was quite evident that the topic for her was sensitive. Understandable, they were close friends, and he'd almost died how many times now? "And what will you learn from taking a class you don't care about? What of your _future _Ronald Weasley?"

"Well, I've got an entire future to figure that out, haven't I?"

That remark had sent her over the edge, and she stormed up the stairs to the girls Dormitory, slamming the door behind her. Ron, flushed and angry, slumped into the nearest overstuffed chair.

Harry was dumbfounded. "What was that all about?"

"Whole summer. A whole summer she spent with that hairy bastard," Ron muttered, his nose twitching.

Now at first, Harry thought Ron was talking about him. Then again, Hermione was in no way welcome at the Dursley's, so that couldn't be right. "Ron, what d'you mean 'whole summer'? How could she spend the whole summer at someone's house when she was at yours for two weeks?"

"Bulgaria. She went to bloody Bulgaria to visit bloody Viktor Krum for the entire bloody summer."

Harry stared. "Ron, she went to Bulgaria for _one_ week."

He could see Ron's fingers digging into the armrests of the chair, "all summer."

"ONE WEEK," Harry repeated through gritted teeth.

"Look, the point is, she likes Viktor more than she likes you," he said, finally turning to face Harry, his body still stiff as cardboard, "doesn't that really piss you off?"

"I really don't think-"

"Couldn't stop talking to Ginny about how much fun she'd had… how it was a great 'cultural' experience, and how he taught her to dance."

Harry paused at Ron's words. "To… to… dance?" He stammered, suddenly apt with attention.

"Yeah," Ron replied, "The Tango."

**__**

4 September, 1997

Crabbe has apparently forgotten entire diary ordeal. To make sure it will never happen again I moved my hiding spot to beneath my mattress. I hope that Crabbe does not regularly spend time anywhere near my bed. After underwear rummaging, I believe that would put me over the edge.

In more important news, Longbottom got knocked off his broom by a wild bludger, nasty blow to the head. Apparently that makes him unable to perform his Head Boy duties and I'm next in line. Not quite sure how I feel about this, but no doubt when I leave this dorm I will have to act cocky and pleased about Longbottom's unfortunate accident. Really, I'd just like to go to sleep.

Somehow Mother got news of this faster than the bludger hit Longbottom, because she owled me the second I reached the commons. Enclosed is the letter… pretty much a bunch of blah blah about being absolutely thrilled and sending me a batch of celebratory cookies to share with all of my "little friends". It irritates me that she can't grasp the fact that I'm seventeen and most of my friends are six feet in both directions. We need at least three batches.

****

My Dearest Draco,

I'm more than thrilled to have received news of your latest promotion. The fact that you were picked second after the Longbottom boy is of no importance, and you will understand if I did not reveal this to your father. I'll trust you'll do the same?

The manor feels empty without you. Lucius has been busy with work more often than not, and I feel quite lonely all by myself. I made a batch of cookies to send to your little friends- do try not to eat them all at once!

I expect a return owl no later than tomorrow at noon.

With love,

Mother

Classes start tomorrow, Potions right after breakfast. No doubt I will be paired with Pansy. Perhaps I will drink a bit beforehand to ease my suffering.

"All I'm saying Ron, is you should try being a little nicer to her is all."

"All summer!" He said for the thousandth time since they spoke in the Commons, standing from the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.

Harry swallowed a final sip of Pumpkin juice, "One week. You know it. And we've got Potions next, so there's no point in fighting. We'll be in the negative house points before you can say greaseball and the underclassmen will want your head."

Even in their last year at Hogwarts, Severus Snape still felt it necessary to treat his students with less respect than he did the year before. Last year, even the Slytherins felt the wrath of Snape when he threatened to kill Millicent Bulstrode's cat if she didn't get her potion right. She had, mind you, made nearly twenty three attempts, and wasted a majority of her ingredients throwing them at the back of Hermione's head.

Seamus Finnigan had claimed that this was a sign of affection. "We're his favorite students, is why," he'd said one morning, during their sixth year, "the closer to graduation, the more greasy and horrible he'll get. He doesn't want to see us go," he placed a hand to his heart dramatically and continued, "shall I compare the Gryffindors to a summers day? Thou are more lovely and more temperate…" All of the muggles in the Gryffindor commons snorted with laughter.

As Ron and Harry made their way to Potions, Hermione and Parvati Patil were already sitting in the second row of chairs in Snape's dungeons. Hermione, staring intently at her Potions notes, barely heard any of the words that spilled out of Parvati's mouth.

"And then Lavender said, 'don't be silly you are _soooo_ prettier than her.' And _I _said 'oh I know I know, it's just'-" Parvati paused mid-sentence, and nudged Hermione lightly in the ribs, "don't look now, but Draco Malfoy just gave you a very serious look. The kind they give when they want you to turn around and flaunt."

Hermione had been paying attention enough to hear the words 'Draco Malfoy' and 'look'. Setting down her brown weathered quill, she looked up at where he sat beside Pansy Parkinson.

"I said don't look! Don't look!" Parvati wailed, in a loud enough whisper that professor Snape looked up and made a weird noise with his nose.

Hermione shook her head, "Parvati… he's probably just sizing me up. He's the new Head Boy, you know, since Neville's accident."

"Sizing you up, yeah," Parvati said, arching a brow, "but not for any kind of competition. I think he wants to play on _your_ team."

Hermione nose crinkled and eyes narrowed, "if you're implying in any way shape or form that Draco Malfoy is-" but Parati held up a hand to silence her, still watching Draco intently, "Shut up Hermione, and flip your hair."

"What?"

"Flip. Your. Bloody. Hair."

Her expression still seeming as if something extremely vile had been placed beneath her nose, Hermione finally rolled her eyes and brought up her hand, flipping the hair that lay on her shoulder backwards.

Draco Malfoy stared.

Now, Hermione Granger was not exactly the type of girl you would ever find an instant attraction to. Although she had certainly adopted a woman's figure in the past few years, she still had the same bushy eyebrows, hair that could often be confused with a Muggle Chia Pet, and wore clothes that covered the same amount of skin as an Eskimo. Even with her chaste way of living, Hermione Granger had, in a very sick in twisted way, developed some intense sex appeal. Even if her daft little boyfriends Potter and Weasley couldn't see it, the other boys in the school could.

Including Draco. Even if Hermione was hairy. And a mudblood. And a know-it-all. Come to think of it, she really wasn't all that attractive.

With that sudden realization, Draco shrugged, and went back to studying his notes.

Parvati gaped, and glanced back over at Hermione, who seemed to have returned to her notes as well. "Hermione!" She cried, just loud enough to spur yet another weird Snape nasal cavity to explode in disapproval.

She glared, "What? What now? I flipped my hair!"

"Yeah, you did!"

Hermione stared at Parvati, waiting for her point. "And……?"

"It was dreadful!"

Before Hermione could object, Ron and Harry burst through the Dungeon doors and took seats to the right of Hermione, she of course, giving them very stern looks. They just shrugged, and began to unload their notes and textbook.

Snape, however, had stood the moment they came in, "put away all your things as I pass out the test. If I catch any wandering eyes, cheating incantations, pre-printed parchments, or nancy-boy love notes in your possession, I will personally make sure that you end up repeating your seventh year. Understood?"

Seamus grinned broadly and leaned over to Dean Thomas, "What'd I tell you?"

Harry and Ron stared in disbelief. It was Ron who spoke first, "A test? But Professor- you said we would have time to-"

"You _would _have had time to study had you arrived earlier. Not put away your things," he hissed, leaning in and slapping the test parchments in front of them. Hermione of course, quietly tutted, shaking her head.

"Begin"

"Can you believe that massive git? And when I say massive I mean enormous, greasy haired, big nosed, never-had-a-girlfriend-in-his-life, G-I-T," Ron cried as the three of them left the Dungeons. His anger towards the previously administered test seemed to deflate any nasty remarks he had reserved for Hermione. Having the right idea, she held her tongue for once, not wanting to start him up again.

Harry nodded. "I wasn't prepared for that one."

"Prepared? PREPARED? I was so far from prepared- and Boomslang? Monkswood? Who knows that stuff?"

Hermione quickly covered a wail with a sudden whooping cough.

****

5 September, 1997

Maybe it's the butterbeer talking, but Pansy's nose looked much less like a Pug today and more like a Golden Retriever's. I was quite pleased.

Granger was looking at me in Potions this morning. Not sure if she was just mesmerized by my dashing good looks or Pansy's. I've always wondered about her, really. Of course, she pulled one of those hair flip things, but she looked as if she just ate parchment or something while doing it. For her sake I hope Pansy didn't see… it was rather revolting.

Reaching the portrait of the fat lady, Ron muttered the password, obviously still extremely bothered by the likelihood that he'd just completely failed a Potions test. Adding to his dismay, Colin Creevey greeted them from a couch in front of the empty fireplace, with a broad grin that instantly faded.

"What's with the sad faces?"

Hermione smiled, "Potions te-"

He brought up a hand to silence her, "say no more. Dennis came out of Potions one day crying his eyes out, panties all in a twist, saying something about Snape and an extremely horrible wedgie. So really, I suppose that'd be the literal panties in a twist, wouldn't it?"

Ron and Harry stood there, sort of dumbstruck. They'd known Colin since his first year, but lately, they'd seen less and less of him. On purpose? Maybe. Hermione had obviously taken a keen liking to him ever since… well…

"Oh oh you guys, I didn't even get to tell you, I was telling Colin about Bulgaria-" at this, Ron snorted, she ignored it, "and turns out he's a great dancer! We were practicing steps together just last night!" With rather random enthusiasm, Hermione set her satchel down on the ground and grabbed Harry's hand, pulling him towards an open space in the Common Room. "Let me show you- oh comon Harry, it's so easy…"

While she got Harry to at least make some miniscule attempt at dancing behind the sofa, Ron was left sitting awkwardly with Colin in front of the fireplace. Colin watched him closely with a rather unnerving smile on his face, or at least, Ron thought so.

"You wanna dance?"

Ron coughed, "ah… dunno how, sorry."

"Well that's the idea! I could teach you!"

Ron seemed to be rather panicked by the situation, and at the same time was watching the smile widen on Hermione's face as she danced with Harry, counting aloud for him.

"_One_ two _three_ four, good Harry!"

Ron moved at least a foot away from Colin on the couch and shook his head, making no eye contact. "Um.. yeah… no thanks. I'm ah- allergic."

Colin, however, didn't seem to have heard him, as he had turned around with his oversized camera and was snapping pictures of Hermione and Harry dancing. "Turn him this way, Hermione, there we go! Beautiful."

That night, Ron didn't sleep much at all. Harry couldn't get any shuteye as long as the kid in the bed across from him kept rolling around. Finally, when the shifting paused, he said, "comfortable, Ron?"

"No. I think Hermione fancies the poofter."

"Colin is not a poofter."

"He likes taking pictures."

"Of girls."

"He asked me to dance."

"To teach you."

"Just yesterday he put a rose in his hair and called himself pretty."

Harry paused, his eyes snapping open at the thought. "You win."


	2. Loyalties

Author's note:

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In this chapter, as well as the previous, many quotes are borrowed from Buffy the Vampire Slayer- and possibly others. If you notice a quote from somewhere else that I haven't credited- please email me.

Also, I do not claim to own or to have created the characters, and world of Harry Potter. All rights belong to an remain the property of J.K. Rowling.

Chapter Two

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Draco Malfoy woke up in his bed sweaty, and out of breath. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up, glancing out the large window that separated the wall behind his bed and another. The covers slid down his front revealing a bare chest, which alerted him immediately. He never slept shirtless, contrary to popular belief. He thought it was dodgy enough for a group of six guys to sleep in the same room, let alone do it bare-skinned. Just wasn't right.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he threw off the rest of his covers, relieved so see that he was at least, wearing pants. A creature danced mockingly outside the window.

"I was wondering when you were going to wake up," came a voice from a far corner. "We've got work to do."

He rubbed his eyes and blinked. "Hermione? What're you doing in here?"

"Crabbe let me in."

Draco snorted. "Typical."

"You're wearing plaid pajamas."

"The bottom half, anyway."

"You never struck me as a plaid kind of guy, Malfoy."

"Why? Squares not my shape? Maybe I should ask Creevey-"

Hermione waved her hand dismissively, "That's not the issue. We really have work to do. Dumbledore wants them gone. We have to get rid of them before the prefects see. It'd start a panic."

Rubbing his temples, he stood up and squinted. Hermione sat at the edge of his bed now, although he couldn't remember seeing her move. She wasn't wearing her school robes, either- but a strange slinky black dress with red frill, and a rose in her hair. "Not to be rude or anything, but I'm still a little lost as to why the HELL you're in my bedroom."

"This isn't your bedroom, it's our bedroom."

Draco jumped up and turned around, the twin-size four-poster having turned out to be much more than just a four poster.

"Oh honestly, haven't you read Hogwarts, A History yet?"

"What?"

"Hogwarts, A History. It's a book, Malfoy, the kind in which you open and read."

The atmosphere had completely and shifted, They were no longer in the Slytherin Boy's dormitory, but the Library, fully clothed, the sun just beginning to rise.

"Granger," he heard himself say, yawning slightly, "It's much too early for this. Instead of being the 'Head Boy and Girl who got lots done' can't we be the 'Head Boy and Girl who got a decent nights' sleep?'"

Her cheeks were flushed and she was breathing as if she'd just run a flight of stairs. "We're not going to be remembered as the 'Head Boy and Girl' anything if we're dead, Malfoy!"

Sighing, he slumped down in his chair and opened a dusty book entitled: Fantastic Girls and How to Treat them. Flicking open the cover, Hermione's picture stared back at him, but strangely, it wasn't moving.

His vision blurred as he stared at the picture, and he blinked, still in the same library, but at nighttime.

"Do you ever do anything for anyone other than yourself? Could you think for one second where they might be?"

"Yes. But I'm not going there. And I'm not telling you, because if I do, you'll drag me with you. I know it."

"Malfoy! They could be hurt!" Hermione stuck her finger in his face and continued, "if something happened to them- I'll- I'll-"

"Hermione, calm down. Please. They're fine. They're at…" he cringed at the thought, "They're at Creevey's."

But to Draco's surprise, she didn't seem to be interested in that anymore. "You just said my name."

He paled. "What? No I didn't."

Hermione smiled, her eyes lighting up. "Yes you did, yes you did! You said 'Hermione, calm down'. You said my name!"

"Don't flatter yourself, Granger," he began, trying to make up for his earlier comment. "The word that begins with an H and ends with an e did not pass my lips."

Hermione smiled, and walked several steps towards him. "Is that so?" she asked, snaking her arms around his neck. "Well, we'll see about that," and she kissed him.

Draco didn't hesitate to return the kiss, even if it made no sense whatsoever. Wrapping his arms around her waist he pulled her closer, and murmured against her lips, "Say it…"

"Oh Draco-"

"Mmmm say it Herm-"

"Oh Draco! You sexy beast! You hunk of sweet sweet burning love! Can I borrow your Transfiguration homework, my dearest?"

Draco's eyes snapped open, and he lie there in his bed, the sheets twisted around his body like a straight jacket, a pair of dark eyes staring down at him. "GOYLE! I'LL KILL YOU!"

In his hastened attempt to murder his friend, Draco fell out of his bed, still tightly wrapped in his bedsheets, and Goyle slipped out of the dormitory with Draco's Transfiguration homework, laughing hysterically.

**__**

13 September, 1997

I truly hope that Goyle's memory is about as sharp as Crabbe. Had extremely strange dream last night, and it was interrupted by the prat. Not that in some way I'm not thankful. Granger is haunting me now. Damn Longbottom and his less than graceful tendencies. I think my dream was a reflection of what is to come: lots and lots of work as Head Boy. Either that or I'll be getting lots of action.

Today is Tuesday, which means I have Transfiguration. Can't find my homework anywhere- the last thing I need is to not be prepared on the first day of my last year… eh. I'll just nick Goyle's.

"Hogsmeade. Saturday. You didn't forget, did you?" Ron asked his sister as they headed towards the Great Hall.

"No of course not! Colin and I are going shopping for her present tomorrow after Charms," Ginny said excitedly, her bright red hair shifting as Ron opened the large oak doors.

Ron gave her a stern look, grabbing her arm before she could walk to the Gryffindor table. "You fancy him too, don't you?"

"What? Fancy Colin? Don't be stupid, Ron!"

"You do! I saw that little smile on your face when you mentioned it! You fancy him! With his… his defined dancer-man muscles and Lockhart-clone smile! You just can't wait until he takes you for a long walk on the beach and you can discuss the latest romance novel!"

Ginny crossed her arms over her chest. "It sounds more like you fancy him, Ron," she said pointedly.

"Now look who's being stupid," he said, his eyes wide. "That's sick and twisted, that is."

She just arched an eyebrow and shrugged, "Right."

"Hey look, all I'm saying is, don't get your hopes up, alright? I seriously doubt you're his gender. I mean, type."

Ginny just rolled her eyes and turned on her heel to meet the others at the Gryffindor table, and Ron, reluctantly, followed.

"Hullo!" Ginny said brightly, taking a seat beside Colin who was across from Harry and Hermione. Their side of the table was full. Ron was apparently not pleased with this arrangement, and basically told one of the little first years to get lost or-

"Ron!" shouted Hermione, obviously surprised at his language. "That's completely unnecessary! There's a seat right there next to Colin!"

He had been so busy yelling at the first year that he almost didn't hear her. "What? Colin?" Eyes trailing past his sister, Colin sat annoyingly upright and was smiling, lightly patting the seat beside him.

"Right. There's a seat. Sorry mate," he mumbled to the first year, shuffling over and slumping down in the open spot.

"I was just telling Harry how Dumbledore is putting us in charge of organizing the extra activities this year. You know, get dueling club up and running again, garden club, those sorts of things. I've got a meeting on Friday."

Ron was stabbing his fork forcefully into a baked potato. "Oooh I know, let's start a dancing club as well. 'Cause that'd just be bundles of fun, wouldn't it?" he said dully, making a face as his so-called potato oozed yellow.

Eyeing him carefully, Hermione smiled. "Why what a lovely idea, Ron."

"Pansy, I already told you-"

"Told me WHAT?" Pansy snapped, pieces of gray-black hair falling out of a loose bun, "That I'm not good enough for you? That you've got too many other things or should I say girls going on in your life to spend just a little bit of time with me like you should?"

It took Draco a lot of control to not just go ahead and say 'well, yeah'. Instead, he tried his hardest to look sympathetic. This really didn't work out well- he probably looked more like he had to get to the boys lavatory or there would be a serious problem on their hands. "Ah well, I'm just- I'm just not the right guy… for you. To be perfectly honest I-"

But Draco didn't get to finish his sentence. Pansy was jumping up and down with her hand to her mouth. "Oh don't even say it Draco, don't say it. I don't need to hear it… I was stupid. It was stupid of me to assume that you- no guy who isn't would wear such tasteful-"

"Pansy I'm not GAY!" he shouted, a bit too loudly.

"You're- you're not?"

"No!"

She looked confused. "Then why won't you kiss me?"

"Because … it just seems a bit tacky."

"You're calling me tacky, now?"

"No. We're not dating. I've never even bought you dinner."

"Would it make you feel any better if you bought me something, then?" Pansy asked, obviously not following.

"No no… it's just not right, I'm- taking advantage. It's like I'm a sodding…"

"Scarlet Man?" she finished for him, holding back a fit of giggles.

Draco stared. "No, not quite the word I was looking for, Pansy."

She sighed. "We're friends with benefits, Draco, it's not like we're getting married and trafficking drugs." He lifted a brow. "Sorry," she said, "Muggle Studies seminar." His expression didn't change. "We all had to go! It was required!"

"I'm cutting you off. The Draco Love Shack is officially closed," he said, half grinning.

"Oh you're such a- such a pompous-"

"Witch magnet?"

"You're so incredibly-"

"Sexy?"

"You, Draco Malfoy are-"

"So much better looking than Harry Potter?"

"Well ye- no! YOU'RE INFURIATING!" she shouted, turning on her heel to leave.

Draco stayed put. "So is the broom closet alright with you, then?" he called after her.

"Broom closet is good."

Hermione walked briskly down the hall, wishing desperately that she had her watch with her. She knew she was going to be late, and that thought alone was driving her up the wall. Adjusting her satchel on her shoulder, she tried to pick up the pace without actually running.

**__**

BAM.

She ran head on into none other than Draco Malfoy.

He was the first to speak. "In a hurry, Granger?"

"I'm sorry I- Malfoy?"

"The one and only," he replied, hands deep in his pockets.

"And we're all very thankful," she said, not bothering to keep her voice down. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting to…" Hermione trailed, something else suddenly crossing her mind. "Malfoy, shouldn't you be going to the meeting as well?"

"Who me? Oh. Yeah. Head Boy," he nodded, "I was just headed down there."

Hermione, however, looked skeptical. "In the opposite direction?"

"Well halfway there I changed my mind. I've got another meeting in that closet over there. What? Don't look at me like that, as Head Boy I think it's my job to-"

"Oh shut it, Malfoy. We've got work to do, and you're coming with me," she said, taking hold of his left wrist and yanking it out of his pocket.

"Woah- slow down there Granger- enough me to go around… and don't touch that. It' s brand new."

Looking down she could see he was talking about his watch, it looks like a Rolex, she thought absentmindedly. "Can you at least tell me what time it is, then?"

"Nope."

This was the first thing that made her laugh all day. "Let me get this straight. You can't read clocks?"

"Sure I can read clocks," he said, annoyed. "Just not this one. And I can't believe you would laugh at someone who couldn't read. That's cruel."

"Not just anyone, Malfoy. You're special."

Draco thrust his wrist out in front of her. "See? It's Latin. And there aren't even any arms on it."

Hermione looked closely at it for the second time, seeing the face of it and it's details. It was circular, like any other watch, but simply contained a bunch of jumbled and faded Latin words. All except for one, reminding her of a Muggle eight ball. "Serusaum…" she murmured curiously, reading the word highlighted in the center of the glass. Looking extremely puzzled, she sat down in the middle of the corridor and began looking through her satchel, pulling out a small book about the size of her hand.

"Granger," Draco began, disbelieving.

"What?" she replied, not looking up from the book.

"Do you carry a pocket-size Latin dictionary around with you everywhere?"

That was about the third time she ignored him. "Serusaum…serusaum…" flicking to the correct page she rolled her eyes. "Late. It means 'you're late.' Why did you buy that?" she asked, irritated, standing abruptly and taking hold of his arm again whether he liked it or not.

"It was expensive," he said as if it were obvious, allowing her to pull him down to Dumbledore's office.

**_14 September, 1997_**

Yesterday had to participate in meaningless meeting as Head Boy. I've got to say, the only good thing that has come out of this is the rather spiffing title. Pansy says it's a turn on- I personally just think it's funny. 'Head Boy'. Kinky, really.

Granger, of course, doesn't take anything lightly. Little miss let's-crack-down-on-books always wants to do something. Why can't she be little miss 'let's-crack-down-on-Draco'? I'm quite open to trying new things.

I must be tired. I believe I just made blatant sexual suggestion having to do with Granger.

"Ginny! Wait up!" Harry called, running down an archway with no windows, the sun reflecting slightly off his glasses. Ginny turned, and smiled. "You headed to Arithmancy?" he asked, breathless.

"Yeah- you're taking Arithmancy, too, Harry?"

"Er, no, not my thing. I just wanted to catch you… Ron told me you were shopping with Colin for Hermione today? Um… well, what're you… what're you getting her?"

"Oh well, she is seventeen now… so I was thinking more along the lines of a Birth Control Potion," Ginny replied seriously, inwardly grinning.

Harry looked as if he just ate a flobberworm. "Wha- what?" he asked, nearly toppling over.

She burst into a fit of giggles, "Relax, Harry! I was only joking! Goodness, you've known her since you were eleven, and you're asking me for gift advice?"

"Well ah… like you said, she's seventeen, so… this gift should be…"

"Special?" Ginny finished for him, smiling much wider.

Embarrassed, Harry stuck his hands idly in his pocket, and kicked a stone on the ground. "Well, yeah…"

She rolled her eyes. "Harry, you can do special! Just make sure you don't pull any repeat gifts," Ginny said, looking at him pointedly, "Like last year when you got her a book for her birthday and Christmas?"

"She likes books!" he cried defensively, eyes wide.

"It was her sweet sixteen! You don't get her books! You get her… flowers and a kiss- or lingerie or something!"

Harry grinned, "Lingerie, Gin?"

"Well- not- not lingerie- but you know what I mean!"

"Yeah, I do. And I think I've got the perfect gift in mind too. Thanks, you're the best," Harry said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before he turned and ran off in the other direction.

Ginny turned instantly red and yelled after him, "What did I do?"

That was very cruel. Now, first things first- Ginny used to have a crush on Harry. It wasn't exactly a secret, anyway. By her third year, she went to the ball with Neville. (Still, Neville- not exactly Gilderoy Lockhart, right?) By her fourth year she'd made tons of new friends, and sort of took a stand against boys, ending up taking the Hermione route. She put forth all of her efforts towards her schoolwork. This had been going pretty well… until… Draco Malfoy.

Ginny began to think long and hard (and not for the first time) about Draco. He was a complete mystery to her, and perhaps that was what made him so incredibly attractive. He was forbidden. Dangerous. Like that dark haired stranger in the novel she'd been reading- A Wizard Forgotten. A chill ran up and down her spine every time she pictured him in her mind- and what Ron would do if he found out.

Ah well, not gonna happen.

**__**

BAM.

"Do people not watch where they're going now?" a man grumbled as Ginny walked right into him.

"What? Oh- gosh I'm sorry," she said, thoroughly embarrassed that she'd been daydreaming. Dropping to her knees she began to pick up her belongings.

He bent down to help her, picking up her tattered Advanced Arithmancy book. "You really ought to get that replaced, Weasley, I could've sworn I saw one of your brothers carrying around the same nasty thing a few years back," the man said, standing back up.

"Oh, yeah… that's Percy's, actually," she said, still crawling on the ground looking frantically for her lucky quill. Ginny saw it, right in-between the man's feet. "Aha!" she cried triumphantly. "Found you."

"OWWW!" he cried, falling back several feet as Ginny started to sit up, still directly in-between his legs.

She'd flung her head up… right up… there. "OH MERLIN!" she shrieked, standing abruptly and stepping towards the blonde man. "OH MERLIN!" she cried a second time, but not for the same reasons. "DRACO?"

"WHAT'D I EVER DO TO YOU???"

Ginny paused to think about it, looking thoughtful, "Well, there was that time when you almost got Hagrid fired, called Hermione a Mudblood, almost got my father-"

"IT WAS A RHETORICAL QUESTION, WEASLEY!"

"That must really, really hurt, huh?" she said, crossing her arms over her chest. Draco was suddenly much less attractive when he was writhing in pain. "Need help?"

"I'm sure you'd like that, wouldn't you Weasley?"

"You're not really in a position to insult me, Malfoy."

Draco, who was still hunched over, glared. "You're as charming as your brother. Which really isn't that charming."

"Can I have my book now, please?"

"OH NO. You could have ridded me of my ability to reproduce. We need to make sure everything in working order."

Ginny was began tapping her foot impatiently, "And how to d'you propose we do that?" He grinned. "Very funny, but you're not getting in my robes."

"Oh don't flatter yourself Weasley, I have no desire whatsoever to spawn a Measley. One, that's a very cruel last name to give a child, and two, it might inherit your looks. Can't have that."

"We could always call it Walfoy. And what's wrong with my looks?"

"Your red hair and my gray eyes? You wouldn't be able to tell if it was a child or a very hideous house plant. I'd never put a child through that sort of torment."

"Didn't your father get arrested last year for being head of Muggle torture?"

"He was never convicted," Draco said hotly. "And not everything runs in the family."

"Of course not."

"I'm serious."

"Alright then."

"We're clear."

"We're clear."


End file.
